


The touch of your hand (says you’ll catch me)

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Secret Santa 2020 (Holby City), Canon Divergent, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Pre Relationship, aau gang, including their not-a-date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Four times their hands touched and one time they didn’t let go.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 32
Kudos: 82
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2020





	1. Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robliz/gifts).



Despite the pile of paperwork in front of her that she has just started tackling, Bernie thinks that her first official day on AAU has been a success. It’s quicker work, faster paced, more varied, than up on Keller. More her thing.

The door opens and Serena appears, a smile on her face. “Hello there. Good to see you getting stuck in.”

Bernie grins sheepishly. “Thought I’d try to start off well, at least.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about you from Ric,” Serena teases.

“I’ve got plenty of gossip to retaliate with,” Bernie says, and winks.

“I’ll hold you to that. Albie’s tonight? No – don’t even think of going home on your own. It’s celebratory drinks.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“Your first day?” Serena suggests.

“Sounds good,” Bernie says.

They smile at each other and then Serena turns her attention to her computer screen. Bernie watches her for a moment, thinking idly that this is also an improvement on Keller. She and Ric had had a good working relationship in the end, but Serena, with her wicked smile and the glint in her eyes – well –

Bernie shakes herself mentally. Now is not the time to be considering the attractiveness of the woman opposite her. Now is the time to be concentrating on her paperwork. She sighs a little and picks up the next file.

She wants to start tomorrow with a clean slate so she keeps her head down, ploughs on through. Finally, opposite her, Serena throws her pen down. “That’s me done. Come on, our shift was over half an hour ago, let’s escape.”

Bernie straightens, rolls her shoulders and grimaces at the twinge she feels. She’s pretty much recovered from her injuries now, but her back is starting to play up. Whether that’s related to the IED or it’s just another fun sign of ageing, she doesn’t know. She’s still sitting when Serena appears at her side, coat on and bag in hand.

“Come on Bernie,” she says, “you’re not prevaricating, are you? Don’t want to go for that drink?”

“I do,” Bernie hastens to assure her, “it’s just – my back. Bit sore.”

Soft concern appears in Serena’s eyes but disappears quickly, for which Bernie is thankful. She doesn’t need anybody feeling sorry for her.

“Here,” Serena says instead, offering her hand.

Bernie takes it, feeling the strength in Serena’s fingers and the slight roughness caused by years of thorough washing and hand sanitiser. Surgeon’s fingers. Clever fingers; Bernie’s seen them in action.

“One, two, three, hup!” Serena says with a grin, and tugs Bernie neatly out of the chair.

Bernie’s back twinges enough that she has to stand very still for a moment, breathing through it. The worst of the pain goes and she realises she’s still holding Serena’s hand. “Sorry,” she mutters, dropping it. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anything to get you to the pub,” Serena winks. “Let’s go.”

They head out of the ward, collect Morven and Raf on their way. Bernie likes them all already and she’s happy to be part of the team, thinks Serena has done a good job of making AAU a great place to work. She feels more at home here already than she did after weeks on Keller. Serena laughs at something that Raf says, sending that wicked sparkle into her eyes. Yes, Bernie thinks. This is better than Keller.

* * *

There is an air of badly suppressed amusement in the air when Raf arrives at work.

“Morning,” Fletch greets him, jaunty as ever,

“Morning,” Raf replies and puts out a hand to stop him. “What’s going on?”

Fletch grins and then shakes his head, abashed. “I shouldn’t laugh,” he chastises himself, before grinning again, “but I can’t help it.”

“Fletch!” Raf says, “Come on, tell me.”

“Bay two, and that’s all I’m saying.” Fletch grins again and heads down the ward. Raf stows his things in the locker room and then sidles down the ward. He stops by the bays as he passes, flicks through the notes, catching up, until finally, finally he arrives at whatever has got people so amused.

The man lying on his side in the bed appears to be in mild discomfort, but as Raf eyes him he wonders if it isn’t more embarrassment than anything else. He flicks open the file and – well. That’s not a good place to get a tap wedged.

“What’s the plan for bay two then?” Raf asks Fletch when he catches up with him next.

Fletch shrugs. “The bosses haven’t decided. Serena was looking pretty miserable when she came in – heard her car got nicked.”

“Ah, poor thing. And there’s been a leak to the papers about staffing as well. Not Serena’s day.”

There’s a hoot of laughter from the office and both men glance in through the window to see Bernie and Serena, shoulders shaking, Serena wiping a tear from her eye.

“That’s cheered her up,” Fletch says. “I reckon they’ll just yank it out, you know. No need to operate.” He pauses. “Fancy a bet?”

“On what?”

“Which of them will do it.”

Raf considers for a moment. “Alright. Bernie. She’s got the tough army background – have you seen the muscles in her arms?”

“Nah,” Fletch dismisses the idea easily and Raf eyes him inquisitively. “Serena needs cheering up,” Fletch explains, “and Bernie’s sweet on her. She’ll let her do it.”

“Bernie? Sweet on Serena? Get out of here.” Raf knows they got on well, better than Serena has got on with a fellow consultant on the same ward just about ever, but he doesn’t think it goes beyond that.

“Look.” Fletch jerks his head back to the office again.

As they watch, Bernie and Serena face each other across the desk and clasp hands.

“They’re not going to-”

“They are.” Fletch laughs. “What a place to work, hey. Bernie ought to win this, no problem.”

Raf is inclined to agree.

The women spend a long time getting their hands into just the right position, flexing their fingers around each other, moving just so. It’s long enough that Raf begins to wonder if there is anything in Fletch’s crazy idea. Eventually the arm wrestle begins, and Bernie does have the edge, but suddenly Serena pushes back and Bernie’s hand is forced to the table.

“That’s five quid you owe me,” Fletch crows.

“We didn’t set an amount,” Raf protests, “and they had a competition for it!”

“Bernie threw that on purpose. Couldn’t you tell?”

In the office, Serena stands and heads for the door and Raf and Fletch scatter, trying to pretend they haven’t been staring at their bosses for five straight minutes. From a safe distance, Raf turns back. Bernie is leaning back in her chair, a smug and satisfied look on her face. Damn him, Fletch is right.

Raf hopes it will all work out okay, and in the meantime, he owes Fletch a fiver.

* * *

Serena sits on the chair at Elinor’s bedside, staring at her sleeping daughter and wondering where she went so wrong. The steady bleep of the monitor is reassuring. What a day. What a godforsakenly awful day.

“Here.” Bernie should have left half an hour ago. Her voice is soft. “I brought you this.”

“Strong and hot?” Serena makes a feeble attempt at their standard joke. “Thanks.” She barely tastes the coffee, but it warms her a little.

“It’s not your fault.” Bernie hasn’t gone yet – a reassuring presence behind Serena.

“I rather think it is.” Her fingers clench around the cup. Elinor, brought in by ambulance having overdosed on drugs. Serena had thought that message had got through years ago. She should have spent more time with Ellie, not let her go slipping down this path. Who else is there to blame but herself?

“Serena.” Bernie prises the empty cup from her and Serena lets her do it. Serena keeps her eyes trained on Ellie’s face, barely notices as Bernie puts the cup on the side and drags another chair beside Serena’s.

Then she starts with surprise as gentle fingers slip alongside hers, as Bernie squeezes her hand. Serena turns her hand slightly and lets their fingers entwine.

They sit there in silence for a long time. Serena knows she ought to let Bernie go, but she doesn’t want to lose the comfort she’s providing.

Serena doesn’t know how long it has been when Bernie speaks next. “She’s going to be okay, Serena.”

“I know.” Her voice cracks. “But I can’t help thinking how nearly she could have-” She can’t even bring herself to say the words. Bernie’s fingers tighten, almost painfully. Serena welcomes the feeling, keeping her present, stopping her from spiralling into nightmares of what could have been.

“I’m going to take you home,” Bernie says.

Serena opens her mouth to protest but Bernie stops her, tugs Serena’s hand until Serena faces her, looks directly at her for the first time in hours. “I’m taking you home,” she says again, firmly. “Elinor is sleeping. Raf’s here tonight, you can trust him to look after her.”

Serena can only nod feebly.

“Home, food, sleep and you’ll be back here tomorrow when she wakes up.”

The look in Bernie’s eyes almost makes Serena cry. It’s been so long since somebody has looked after her like this. “Okay.”

Bernie smiles a tiny, relieved smile and squeezes her hand again. But when she starts to lets go, Serena holds on tight. Bernie doesn’t comment, just leads Serena out into the darkened ward and Serena follows, grateful that somebody else is, briefly, in charge.

* * *

“Long day,” Serena remarks idly, as they finish up their paperwork.

“When isn’t it?” Bernie retorts, head down, scribbling away.

“No Jason tonight, and I haven’t got anything sorted for food.”

That’s a hint if Bernie ever heard one and she raises her gaze. “Fancy dinner? I know a nice little Italian.” She’s too far gone now, has finally given up fighting her feelings for Serena. She’ll admit it to herself, if nobody else – and the prospect of a cosy meal, just the two of them, is beyond tempting.

Serena grins at her and Bernie’s heart flips over.

The restaurant is small and cosy and candlelit. The candle is throwing dancing shadows over Serena’s face and only making her more beautiful. Staring at her, Bernie thinks this could be a date. God, how she’d like this to be a date.

“This is a very extensive wine list,” Serena says, perusing the wine menu. “What shall we drink?”

“Whatever you like, you’re the connoisseur. When we go whisky tasting, I’ll be in charge.”

Serena raises a delicate eyebrow. “When? Well, why not. There are worse ways to spend my time.” She taps thoughtfully down the menu. Bernie watches the path of those neatly manicured nails. Serena has such lovely hands, she’s always thought so.

Serena orders a bottle, “Just to get us started,” and food as a second thought.

The wine is excellent, and so is the food. Bernie paces herself; she knows it would be dangerous to drink too much with Serena opposite her looking effortlessly beautiful. Serena has no such worries.

She doesn’t get really drunk but the wine puts a pink in her cheeks, an even more daring glint in her eye.

By the time dessert rolls round, Bernie thinks they might be on their third bottle, and Serena has had most of it.

“To you, Bernie,” Serena says, raising her glass. “To your arrival in Holby, turning my ward upside down and sorting me out.” She sips and Bernie copies her, focussing on the feel of the wine in her mouth and trying not think about how badly she wants to kiss Serena right now.

“I mean it, Bernie.” Serena reaches forward and touches her hand. “I’d have been lost without you. Thank you.”

There’s something more than friendship in her eyes, and the way that her thumb just lightly runs over the back of her hand makes Bernie’s stomach do somersaults. “Serena,” she murmurs. Oh, if only Serena hadn’t had so much to drink, if only Bernie was brave enough to lean forward and kiss her. If only –

She pulls her hand away slowly.

The next morning, Bernie is grateful that she paced herself. She only has a very small headache and it’s nothing that a cup of coffee won’t sort out so she heads into Pulses and buys herself an americano. She’s making her way very slowly out of the cafe when Serena’s voice sounds behind her.

“It’s medicinal, and I blame you!” Serena waves a pastry at her.

Bernie grins and lifts her hands in mock-surrender. “I only suggested we go for a bite to eat after a long shift!”

“At a restaurant with an extensive wine list!” Serena retorts.

Bernie thinks back to the empty bottles left behind them. “You could have ordered by the glass.”

Serena shoves her pastry-free hand at her. “Hello, Serena Campbell. Have we met?”

Bernie laughs and takes her hand, and the whole world stops. Somehow she can feel Serena’s heart, thudding through her palm, even if its medically impossible. She’s soft and warm and staring at Bernie and Bernie can’t look away. She wonders if maybe Serena really could return her feelings, if there is something more between them. She wants to hold onto Serena’s hand forever.

Then there’s a noise behind them, startles them apart. They walk side by side up to the ward, and Bernie isn’t brave enough to talk about it.


	2. One (Christmas)

“Christmas plans?” Serena asks Bernie casually over the open leg of a middle-aged man.

“None,” Bernie sighs. “Kids are with Marcus. They’re coming to me for New Year.”

“Fair, I suppose.” Serena is quiet for a moment to tackle a particularly difficult bit of stitching, then carries on. “Elinor is with Edward. A week spent skiing in France was more enticing than Holby with me and Jason.” She pauses again, partly to focus on work and partly to try and get a grip on herself. What does it matter if Bernie might say no, really? Bernie is quiet too, waiting for Serena. “Do you fancy coming to mine?” Serena finally gets out. She raises her head slowly and is relieved to see the crinkles at the edge of Bernie’s eyes which show she’s smiling.

“I’d love that,” Bernie says quietly.

“Good.” Serena can’t stop her grin, glad that the mask conceals it. “Excellent.”

* * *

Serena loves Christmas. Loves the sounds and the smells and the music and the flowers. It’s not till Bernie walks into their office just as she is setting a poinsettia on the desk that she remembers that she and Bernie have never shared a Christmas before. Bernie is standing, jaw dropping, in the door way.

“Ah, um,” Serena starts, “um, you don’t mind do you?” She watches as Bernie takes in the tinsel, the tiny fake christmas tree, the lights over the cabinet, the baubles that dangle off the coat stand. There’s a sudden knot in her stomach at the idea that this might be Bernie’s idea of hell.

Then Bernie smiles and the tension dissipates. “Not at all. ‘Tis the season, isn’t it. As long as you leave me some room at my desk, or you’ll be giving me an excellent reason to avoid all my paperwork.” She winks and Serena laughs.

“Noted. Not giving you any excuses in that area.”

When Serena comes into work the next day, their desk is rimmed with tinsel and Bernie smiles sheepishly at her.

* * *

Work has been so busy that Bernie has barely had a moment to think – or worry – about spending Christmas with Serena. They’ve sketched out plans: Bernie will come over on Christmas Eve, spend the whole of Christmas day and then leave on Boxing day. Serena’s got the spare room set up for her. They’ll both cook. Serena is in charge of the turkey and will turn over vegetables, roast potatoes and sundry other trimmings to Bernie. They haven’t really talked about how they’re going to spend their time, aside from eating. Jason has emailed Bernie a copy of his television schedule, but she hasn’t read it yet.

It’s the twenty third before Bernie realises she hasn’t got Serena (or Jason) a present. Her kids only wanted money so she’s done a bank transfer and sent a card to each of them. For Serena and Jason, she needs to shop.

There’s a comic book shop in Holby that Bernie has walked past on many occasions. This time she ventures in. She’s pretty sure she’s heard Jason talking about Doctor Who, and there are a few signed novels at a not too extortionate price, so she picks the one with the most interesting cover picture, and then adds a classic Who poster. Jason sorted, it’s on to Serena’s present.

Serena’s is more difficult. Bernie wants to buy her something extravagant, something lavish, but doesn’t want to reveal the depths of her feelings. She wanders down the road, stares into the window of the wine shop. It does some very good stuff, but despite nearly a year of knowing Serena, Bernie is still not entirely certain what makes the absolute perfect bottle of Shiraz. Better to leave it to Serena rather than risk buying her something disappointing. Then there’s the jewellers. But she can’t buy an expensive necklace for a friend, a colleague, even if that one with the pendant would look absolutely exquisite on Serena. Bernie imagines Serena unwrapping it, asking Bernie to help her put it on. Imagines brushing her fingers over Serena’s neck as she does the clasp up…

In a quiet backstreet, she comes across a florist. She thinks of the flowers that Serena’s added to their office and thinks that maybe this is the solution. She goes in.

Her eye is immediately caught by a large, extravagant bouquet. It’s red lilies and winter green foliage and pine cones. It’s the embodiment of Christmas in flower form. It’s perfect.

She pays an eye-watering sum but she doesn’t care because it’s for Serena and Serena will love it. The shopkeeper packs it all up safely into a large box and Bernie wanders back down the street to her car, clutching it carefully and imagining Serena’s face when she opens it.

* * *

Bernie’s working a short shift on Christmas Eve, then it’s off to Serena’s. Jason is working too, so she’s giving him a lift home.

“You look nervous,” he notes, as she drums her fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “Why? Aren’t you looking forward to Christmas?”

Bernie darts a small smile at him. “I’m looking forward to it very much,” she says, “but you’re right, I am nervous. It’s been a long time since I was a guest in somebody else’s house.”

“Oh.” Jason hums thoughtfully. “But you’re not a guest, not really.”

“I’m not? Well, what am I then?”

“You’re Bernie. You’re more important than a guest. I heard Aunty Serena say so.”

It’s Bernie’s turn to say, “Oh.”

“I’m really looking forward to it all,” Jason says cheerfully. “Aunty Serena is a good cook when she has time, and there’s lots of excellent TV to watch, and Aunty Serena is always happy when you’re around.”

Bernie swallows a sudden lump in her throat. “I’m glad,” she manages to say.

* * *

Serena fusses around the house, keeping herself busy and trying to ignore the nerves that flutter at the knowledge that Bernie is going to be arriving soon. Ever since that night they went to the Italian together, since the morning that they shook her hands and her whole body thrilled at the touch, she’s been acutely aware of her feelings for Bernie. Decidedly non-platonic feelings. She wants them to have a perfect Christmas. She wants Bernie to be happy. She wishes that she could be the one making Bernie happy.

She hears Bernie’s car pull into the drive and she pours them both a glass of champagne and an orange juice for Jason. She opens the door with a bright smile.

“Happy Christmas! Come on in.”

They take off coats and shoes in the porch and follow Serena into the living room. Serena passes Jason his glass and then hands Bernie her champagne. Their fingers just brush and Serena fights the blush that she can feel spreading over her cheeks.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Bernie says quietly.

“Thank you for coming,” Serena returns instantly. They stare at each other for a second, then Jason breaks the moment.

“Are we going to have a toast?”

“Why not?” Bernie asks.

“To us all having a very happy Christmas and getting what we want,” Jason says, raising his glass.

Serena meets Bernie’s eyes again and they both grin.

“Cheers,” Bernie says.

“Cheers,” Serena echoes. She is very glad Bernie can’t read her mind, because Jason’s words have produced some very vivid images.

The champagne eases Serena’s nerves somewhat. She puts Carols from Kings on TV and by the time they make it into the kitchen, half an hour later, it feels as natural as breathing that Bernie is spending Christmas with her.

Bernie peels spuds while Serena makes the stuffing. Jason has put on his spotify playlist of christmas classics and they sing along while they work. They chat about this and that and move around each other in the kitchen as easily as they do in the operating theatre.

When Bernie has prepped more vegetables than the three of them can possibly eat, and Serena is finally happy with her stuffing, they retire to the living room.

Bernie sighs and Serena looks at her questioningly.

“You have a beautiful home,” Bernie says, her tone slightly wistful as she looks at the comfy sofa with the christmas cushions that Serena always puts out for the season, and the cards on the mantlepiece, the beautifully decorated tree (there’s a tardis bauble in there too) and the candles.

“Yours too, for Christmas,” Serena says, keeping her voice light.

“Are you going to sit down?” Jason asks from his armchair. “It’s the Countdown special.”

Serena sits down obediently on the sofa and Bernie takes the other end. Serena tucks her feet up and drags the throw from the back of it over her legs. “Here,” she says, nudging the rest to Bernie, “get cosy.” Bernie curls up and her toes just brush against Serena’s. It’s perfect.

* * *

Bernie wakes slowly in an unfamiliar bed and it takes her a moment to remember she’s in Serena’s house and its Christmas morning. Somebody is up already – she can hear the radio on. She takes out her favourite shirt and black trousers and dresses slowly, then retrieves her presents to put under the tree.

She slips quietly into the living room and puts her parcels with the small collection already there, then heads to the kitchen. Serena is wearing a woollen dress, a beautiful burgundy colour that flares out at her waist into a full skirt. She’s dancing as she puts the last touches to the turkey, and Bernie leans against the doorframe and watches her, her heart full of joy.

Serena closes the oven door with a satisfied thud and turns round, jumps at the sight of Bernie. “Will you wear louder shoes please?” she says, clutching her necklace.

Bernie just shakes her head. “You look beautiful,” she says, before she can think better of it, and is glad for her honesty when Serena’s eyes light up.

“And so do you. Happy Christmas, Bernie.”

“Happy Christmas, Serena.” They stare at each other for a moment, their words hanging in the air between them. Bernie takes half a step forward into the room and Serena’s breathing quickens.

“Good morning!” Jason’s voice sounds loud behind her. Bernie jumps and Serena turns quickly to the kettle.

“Coffee, everybody?” Serena asks, her voice just a little unsteady.

“Happy Christmas, Jason,” Bernie says. “Coffee, please. Shall I get out the mince pies?” Mince pies have already been agreed to be an appropriate breakfast. Jason has written it into his schedule.

“I’ll have orange juice please Aunty Serena.”

Jason keeps up a steady flow of chatter over breakfast and Bernie nods and offers opinions and wonders what might have happened if he’d come in to the kitchen five minutes later.

After breakfast, Serena puts the turkey on and they head to the living room to open presents.

Jason is thrilled with the signed doctor who novel and the poster that Bernie got him, and the dvds of the early Doctor Who that Serena’s given him.

“Did you coordinate?” he asks as he inspects the presents, a beaming smile on his face.

“A happy coincidence,” Bernie admits and she and Serena share a smile.

Serena receives a book of countdown conundrums from Jason. “So you can practise,” he tells her, “because I beat you every week.”

Bernie gets a hairbrush, a curling iron, and a very fancy scrub cap. “Aunty Serena always complains about your hair being messy,” Jason explains. “I thought it might help. And you should have your own scrub cap.”

Bernie grins at Serena, who is blushing. “I said that once, Jason. Maybe twice. Definitely not always!”

“It’s a very good hairbrush,” Bernie says, “Much better than my current one. And a very useful scrub cap. It matches my scrubs.”

“Here, open mine next,” Serena breaks in. The parcel she hands Bernie is suspiciously bottle-shaped. “ _Not_ Shiraz, I promise.”

Bernie’s heart thumps as she tears the wrapping off. Serena has got her a bottle of single malt Scotch whisky. A very expensive one, if Bernie knows her whisky, which she does. “Serena, wow. Thank you.” Bernie turns it over in her hands. “We can open it later, if you like?”

“There’s this as well.” Serena directs her attention to a card that she’s missed.

Bernie opens it curiously and lets out a deep breath. Serena has bought her a weekend away that includes a tour of a distillery and an extensive tasting session. “Thank you,” she manages eventually.

Bernie worries that her gift of flowers may be slightly inadequate, but Serena beams as she opens them. “Bernie, how lovely.” She dips her head closely to smell then. “They’re gorgeous.” Serena puts them in pride of place on the table, and then vanishes into the kitchen to do something to the turkey.

It’s one of the nicest Christmas mornings Bernie’s had in a while. They go for a walk while the food cooks, the cold crisp air bringing a delightful flush to Serena’s cheeks. Jason chatters about his hopes for his TV shows, and all Bernie has to do is enjoy the company she’s in. It’s very easy.

* * *

Christmas dinner is delicious and plentiful. They pull crackers, wear hats and tell silly jokes. Every time Bernie meets Serena’s eyes across the table, her heart jumps. Serena is always beautiful but today she’s luminescent and Bernie can hardly take her eyes off her.

Eventually they are all too full to contemplate any more. Jason slips off into the living room and Serena stands with a groan. “I suppose we should clear a few things away.”

She stacks the dirty plates, which teeter a little as she lifts them and Bernie stands up hurriedly. “Here, let me help.” She puts a supportive hand under the plates and her fingers graze Serena’s. There’s a long, long pause as they stare at each other.

Bernie takes the plates from Serena’s grasp and puts them down on the side. “Serena,” she whispers, as they stare at each other.

Serena takes a step forward. Bernie stretches her hand towards her and Serena takes it. Bernie’s mouth is dry and her heart is pounding.

“Bernie,” Serena says, her voice barely audible.

“It’s – it’s just.” Bernie closes the small gap between them. Serena is looking at her pleadingly and Bernie gathers all her courage and leans forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It’s just like she imagined and it’s better than she imagined. She lingers only a brief second then pulls away to study Serena’s face. Serena is staring at her like the world has just begun to make sense, and then suddenly she throws her arms around Bernie’s neck and Bernie finds herself wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Serena is warm and soft and perfectly curved and she tastes of shiraz and christmas pudding and Bernie could kiss her forever.

Eventually, Serena draws back. “Sorry,” she murmurs, but she’s smiling.

Bernie tightens her arms around Serena’s waist. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.”

Serena leans forward and tucks herself into Bernie. Bernie rests her chin on Serena’s shoulder, strokes her fingers through Serena’s hair. “Happy Christmas, Serena.”

They stand entwined for a long time, before Serena sighs. “We ought to clear the things away.”

“Or we’ll regret it later. Like paperwork,” Bernie says with a laugh.

“Exactly like paperwork.” Serena lifts her head to meet Bernie’s eyes, and the promise that she reads there sends thrills shooting through Bernie again. “Let’s get it done, and then we can go and collapse on the sofa.”

“A cuddle on the sofa?” Bernie suggests hopefully.

“Jason-” Serena starts.

“It’s fine if you want to cuddle,” Jason’s voice sounds from the doorway. He makes them both jump, but Bernie keeps hold of Serena and she doesn’t move away. “I just came to see what you were doing. You’ve been ages.” He looks at his phone. “Can you tell me the precise time that you both came to your senses?”

“Um, what?” Serena asks, somewhat dazedly.

“Its for the office sweepstake.”

“The – what?” It’s Bernie’s turn to ask.

“When you invited Bernie for Christmas, Fletch set up a sweepstake to bet how long it would take for this to happen. We’ve all got hour long slots, so it’s very important you tell me the precise time, so we can notify the winner.”

Bernie leans her head into Serena’s shoulder and laughs.

“It’s – you’ve – they...” Serena sputters incoherently.

“Twenty minutes ago,” Bernie says, when she’s got a hold of herself. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” Jason says, and taps out a text message.

“Um,” Bernie continues, and somehow Jason understands.

“Oh, we’ve all known you fancy each other for months,” he says casually. “Can I call you Aunty Bernie now, please?”

Bernie looks at Serena and grins. “That would be very nice.”

* * *

The afternoon and evening are peaceful and comfortable. They graze on cheese and nuts and christmas cake and watch tv. Jason has his armchair and Bernie and Serena curl up on the sofa, legs entwined and hands clasped. Every so often, Serena runs her fingers through Bernie’s hair and Bernie hums softly at the feel of it, presses into Serena’s hand.

“You’re like a cat,” Serena teases quietly. “My tame wolf.”

Bernie squeezes her hand tightly. “All yours.”

* * *

It’s late when Jason trails off to bed.

Bernie’s heart jumps when Serena presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “Stay with me tonight?” Serena trails her fingers lightly over Bernie’s hand. “I – not for – I mean – I’d just like to sleep with you.”

Bernie imagines waking up in the morning with her arms wrapped round Serena. “I’d love to.” She strokes a lock of Serena’s hair behind her ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

Bernie disappears to the spare room to fetch her things and Serena brushes her teeth with a hand that trembles. Today has been more than she could have dreamed of when she invited Bernie to stay and she can hardly believe it _isn’t_ a dream. She pulls on her festive pyjamas (red, with penguins) and slips into bed.

It isn’t long before Bernie appears, clad in a thin, old tshirt and shorts that show off a long expanse of leg. Serena licks her lips unconsciously and blushes when she realises. She pushes back the covers. “Come on, you.”

“I got you something else,” Bernie says, producing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t give it to you earlier because – well, you’ll see. But I brought it anyway.”

Serena sits up, intrigued and Bernie opens the box. “Oh, Bernie,” she gasps. It’s a beautiful necklace, golden and delicate with a cut stone that glitters in the light.

Bernie draws it out carefully. “I saw it and I thought how – how wonderful it would look on you. I couldn’t help buying it. Could I -?” she motions and Serena nods.

Bernie kneels on the bed beside her and fastens the necklace carefully around her neck. Her fingers are so soft but their touch is like flames on Serena’s skin. Bernie settles the necklace in place and traces down the chain. “You’re so beautiful.” There’s a catch in her voice.

Serena slips her arms around Bernie’s narrow waist and pulls her close. “Kiss me?”

Bernie lowers her carefully to the bed, hovers over her so that her hair falls in Serena’s face and tickles her nose.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, and strokes the strands away. She leans closer, so slowly, until Serena loses patience and reaches up to close the space between them.

Bernie feels slender and breakable in her arms and Serena pulls her down so they’re lying side by side, arms and legs entwined, and kissing like they never need to breathe again.

Daring, Serena slips her fingers under Bernie’s t shirt, strokes the soft skin over her hip. Bernie hums at the touch, presses into her. They kiss until Bernie pulls away, trying to cover a yawn. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Been a long week.”

Serena smiles at her. “It has. Perhaps we can save our last present till tomorrow, then. If you want to stay tomorrow night too.”

Bernie’s tired eyes light up. “I’d love to.” She presses a kiss to Serena’s cheek. “Goodnight, Serena.”

Serena feels light, happy, in a way that she’s never felt before. “Goodnight Bernie. And - merry Christmas.”

There’s a little snort of laughter from the woman in her arms. “Merry Christmas,” Bernie says.


End file.
